The Gabriel Mistake
by LathielStormblade
Summary: Sam and Dean just want to get home, but that might take a bit longer when Richard Speight Jr. just happens to be on set for the day. Set in the French Mistake universe, implied Sabriel.


Dean slammed the laptop shut, not willing to watch any more of his fake self. "I don't like this universe, Sammy. We need to get out of this universe."

"Yeah, no arguments here." Sam sighed as he leaned back in the chair, running the situation over in his mind. A small part of his mind had just started to put together a theory. There was a fake him, Jared Padalecki, a fake Dean, Jensen Ackles, a fake Castiel, Misha Collins, so what if there was a fake- He cut himself off quickly. Nope, nope, nope. That was not a road he was taking. "But I don't think our prayers are reaching Cas. Not the real Cas."

"Well, I agree. I think we are definitely out of, uh, soul-phone range." the elder mumbled as he wandered through the trailer, past the ridiculously large aquarium, to a counter where a pad of paper was. "But…"

Sam frowned and watched as his older brother drew something quickly. "What?"

"If we can reverse Balthazar's spell, I watched every just, uh, get the ingredients right, get back to that same window, and…" He tore out the piece of paper and showed Sam the circle with a bow-like symbol in the middle. "There's no place like home."

* * *

><p>The Winchester brothers tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as they made their way back to the set they'd come from.<p>

Unfortunately, it was hard to be inconspicuous when literally everyone in the area knew who you were.

There were many "Mr. Padalecki!"s or "Mr. Ackles"s, even the occasional "Jared!", "Jensen!" But they just gave a polite wave and smile and continued on to the set they'd first appeared on.

Sam knew it took a lot to make movies and television series, but he was still surprised at the sheer amount of _people_ there. At one point they even saw fake Crowley, guy named Mark Sheppard, Sam learned.

Sam had been big into mystery when he was younger and would get his hands on those books whenever he could at the libraries they'd go to to read when he needed a short break from researching. One particular phrase he'd never liked was "tunnel vision." He'd always thought it didn't work like that. But he finally understood that it was not a physical thing but a psychological one as his mind more than his eyes focused on one thing: a shorter man with dark blonde hair that held a gentle wave.

"-okay?" Dean ended as he described the final details of his plan but his little brother wasn't listening. He wasn't even walking any more, he'd stopped dead as soon as he saw the man in the familiar jacket. "Sam!" Dean called as the other started to make way slowly over to him, ignoring one nagging voice in his head_. It's not him, It's not him_… It whispered. None of them were. But just seeing a living doppelganger would be enough for him, he told himself even though he knew it wouldn't be the same.

"Gabriel…" he whispered and put his hand out to touch him but the fake angel turned. "Hey, Jared!" he grinned. "So I was thinking, what if we flew down to Dallas together? Since Rob's lame and wants to _drive_ down."

It took Sam a moment before he nodded. "Uh, yeah." he cleared his throat so his voice wouldn't be so emotion-filled. "Yeah, I think that would work."

Non-Gabriel frowned. "You okay, Jare?"

Sam shook his head to clear it. "Y-yeah, fine. Just… Hard scene coming up, y'know?"

The other nodded his understanding. He turned a little when he heard a call of, "Richard!"

"Guess that's my cue. Later, gigantor." he waved and walked off to a woman who pulled him to the costume trailers.

Sam stared brokenly at Gabriel's retreating form. No, _Richard's_. He wasn't Gabriel. Gabriel was gone and there was nothing that could change that. He sighed and turned back to Dean. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, okay, it's got a lame name and it's short, but I just had this idea and needed to get it out. Constructive criticism welcome!**


End file.
